


Of Dark Horses + Bright Spots

by Kerkerian



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mac has a daughter, Minor Character Death, Permanent Injury, Slow Build, Team as Family, phoenix foundation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerkerian/pseuds/Kerkerian
Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances, Mac found himself not only having sustained some lasting damage after an explosion in Afghanistan but also as a single father to a baby girl. With the help of his friends and the Phoenix Foundation, he managed to cope, but now, six years later, something from the past comes up, threatening to overturn his life once again.
Comments: 49
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own MacGyver.
> 
> Since I don't have enough WIPs, apparently, this demanded to be written. I don't want to give too much away, so there'll be more tags added as the story progresses.

Whistling, Jack Dalton poked his head around the front door: “Anyone home?”

For a moment, it remained silent, then there was a delighted yell: “Uncle Jack!” followed by a fair-haired little girl who came running.

“Hi, honey,” Jack caught her and lifted her up in his arms, pushing the door close behind him with his foot. “Why are you still in your pyjamas?”

“We overslept.”

“You did? All of you?”

“Well, Uncle Wilt didn't. He woke us up.”

“Ah. I guess I know what happened. You slept in your dad's bed and snored so loudly that he couldn't sleep.”

The girl, whose name was Charlotte, giggled: “Noooo!” Sobering up a little, she lowered her voice: “Daddy's got leg trouble. I gave him Herman.”

“That's very thoughtful of you, darlin'.”

Meanwhile, Jack had carried her over to the kitchen, where Bozer and Mac were sitting at the counter, the latter still in his sleep things as well and looking dishevelled. Apart from that, he indeed had “Herman” in his lap, a cuddly toy in the shape of a hermit crab that Charlotte loved dearly and took everywhere.

“Morning,” Jack said. “Everything alright?”

“Morning,” the others echoed, Bozer sounding far more awake than Mac. Out of habit, Jack looked the latter over: there was a certain tightness around his friend's mouth that told him why Mac hadn't gotten up on time and confirmed what Charlotte had said. He didn't seem to have gotten much rest .

Jack set his charge down on her chair and took a seat next to Bozer, who was already pouring him some coffee: “Thanks, man,” he sighed, his eyes still on Mac.

Who rubbed a hand over his eyes: “Everything's okay,” he said somewhat wearily. “I probably just overdid it yesterday.”

Jack exchanged a surreptitious look with Bozer, who indicated a nod; Mac tended to play his problems down, his friends therefore didn't take his reassurances for face value when he said that he was fine.

“'kay,” Jack said, careful not to make a big deal out of it. If Mac's leg was giving him trouble, he was going to use a cane that day, took a painkiller or two if Jack badgered him long enough, and that was it. He didn't like it when someone fussed over him, therefore Jack was going to make sure that he didn't “overdo” it again very subtly.

“More eggs, Lottie?” Bozer asked.

Lottie shook her head: “No, thanks.” Then she turned towards her dad: “What _did_ you do yesterday?” she asked.

Mac shrugged: “I was testing a robotic vehicle. The one I told you about, that can climb stairs?”

The girl nodded.

“It kept malfunctioning, so I was moving around on the stairs a lot to find out what the problem was.”

“You're not supposed to use stairs a lot,” Lottie said sternly, folding her arms in front of her chest.

Jack hid a grin: Mac looked sheepish as his daughter regarded him now.

“I forgot about that,” he admitted. “I was so preoccupied that I didn't think about my leg.”

“Did you fix the robot?”

“Yes.”

Lottie sighed: “I hope it was worth it.”

“Is that any way to talk to your dad?” Mac raised his eyebrows at her, obviously amused.

“Probably not.” She frowned. “I'm sorry.”

“But?” Mac prompted her gently, because she clearly had more on her mind.

Lottie put her chin in her hand: “I'm just worried about you. That's why I gave you Herman earlier. He makes things better.”

Mac looked from her to Jack with an expression that clearly said _I blame you_.

Jack shrugged: _She's got a point, if you ask me_.

Ignoring him, Mac reached for Lottie, who slipped off her chair and let him pull her close: “Thanks, Squirrel, I appreciate that. You don't need to worry about me though,” he said softly. “I've learned to live with that leg, and when it's acting up on some days, I can handle it.”

“Okay,” she replied, leaning against him. Mac pressed a kiss on her hair: “Are you done with breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Then go and get dressed, okay? Your clothes are on the chair.”

“Okay.”

“You wanted the blue skirt today, right?”

“Yes! Thanks!”

“Would you like to take Herman with you?”

“No, you keep him for now!” She hopped off.

Mac watched her with an absent smile.

When he turned back to the others and noticed Jack's stare, he raised his eyebrows once more: “What?”

“She's getting too smart to let herself be fooled,” Jack said.

“She's six. She shouldn't concern herself with my stupid impediment.” It was rare for Mac to acknowledge how much it really bothered him, and from the way he averted his gaze now it was obvious that he hadn't meant to say anything.

“No, but she's doing it anyway, because she loves you and she's a bright little thing. It's good that you're telling her the truth when she notices that something's off, hoss. Kids always appreciate honesty.” Jack gave him a smile.

Mac pushed his only half-empty plate aside, put his arms on the counter and rested his head on them.

Bozer looked at the clock: “Shouldn't you be getting ready too?”

“In a minute.” Mac closed his eyes for a moment. He looked very young and vulnerable right then, and Jack got to his feet: “C'mon, hoss. I'mma find your cane.”

“I can walk.” Mac drew himself up, blinking a few times before he got up as well, Herman in one hand: he stood motionless for a a few seconds, then he took a step and stopped again.

Wordlessly, Jack put his arm up for support; sighing defeatedly, Mac leaned on him and without any further ado, they made their way over to Mac's bedroom.

Bozer looked at them with sympathy but also relief that Jack was there. He made things uncomplicated in situations like these.

Mac was brushing his teeth when Lottie came into the bathroom. She climbed on her step stool and started to do her teeth too, pulling grimaces at Mac in the mirror, obviously still thinking he needed cheering up.

So he made faces at her too, and in the end, they both laughed. Jack, who was sitting at Mac's desk pretending to be looking up something on his phone while he was really keeping an eye on his boy noticed it with relief.

“Pigtails or braids?” Mac asked Lottie as he was combing her hair.

“A pony tail,” she said after a moment of consideration.

“Coming right up.”

They dropped Lottie off at her school on their way to work. Even before Mac had left the hospital six years ago, he had been recruited by a clandestine government operation, the Phoenix Foundation; his reputation had preceded him, and they wanted his expertise. Apparently, the fact that he had suffered life-altering injuries leaving him with severe nerve damage, most prominently in his right leg, was irrelevant. When he saw their new boss, who had dwarfism, he understood why, and he was grateful for this second chance.

So now he was working on developing robotic vehicles which in the long run were supposed to do the actual disarming of explosive ordnances; it meant thinking outside the box and very intricate mechanisms, and while it was still a long way until it was going to be able to be used, Mac was making progress.

Jack was also working for the Phoenix, since they had made it clear that they were a package deal. He was training new recruits in the adjoining building, that way he could frequently check in with Mac. On most days, they also had lunch together (which was Jack's way of making sure that Mac didn't forget to eat).

Another benefit was the rather flexible schedule. Mac could work from home as well, which wasn't ideal but which he did on two afternoons per week so as to be there for Lottie. On the other days, Bozer picked her up after school and looked after her; he lived at Mac's house rent-free in return, but knowing him, he'd have helped out anyway. He loved Lottie as much as he loved Mac, whom he considered his little brother, after all.

Mac was glad when they reached the lab and he could sit down again. On good days, walking was okay and be barely had to pay any attention to it; he still went to remedial PT every week because he wanted to function, and not only for his daughter. Apart from the nerve damage in the leg he often got tension headaches, both from overexertion or his neck. Meaning that there were days on which he couldn't even go to work; during the rest of time, he tried to make the best of what he was capable of.

While running was out of the question, swimming was a good exercise, and he was glad about the possibilities the Phoenix offered. Since they did have their own infirmary, they also had rehab facilities with a pool. His therapist said he was doing well, and after a while, he had felt confident enough to also go swimming with Lottie.

He wanted her to have a normal life and do normal stuff, unrestricted by all the things her father wasn't able to do. On bad days, those seemed to amount to a lot, and he was just glad that Jack and Bozer were there to pick up the pieces. That they didn't mind they had to step in as his caretakers when it was bad.

It sometimes angered him that he was so dependent on their help, and he wondered what he'd do without them. Lottie seemed happy though, and whether she was with Bozer or Jack, she was in good hands. And that was all that mattered in the end.

Mac was just examining a malfunctioning circuit board under a magnifying lens when the door opened and Riley came in. She was a computer wiz and already proving to be indispensable when it came to the programming of Mac's works. Incidentally, she also happened to be Jack's former quasi step-daughter, and it was he who had brought her on board.

“Morning,” she said, giving him a smile and a surreptitious but attentive once-over.

Mac looked up: “Morning.”

Riley put her computer on the table next to him: “I'm finally done with the revaluation of the motion sensor. If we update the software, it should reduce the moment of inertia on the stairs by 75%.”

“That's impressive,” Mac replied.

“It'd have been more impressive if it hadn't taken so long.” Riley smirked. “I had to write a whole new program though, everything I had was too inaccurate.”

Mac rubbed a hand over his eyes: “Thank you, Riles.”

“Sure. I'll get right to it, then.”

It took half an hour to install the update, after which Riley ran a few test simulations: “Should work smoothly,” she then said. “Wanna go and try it?”

Mac hesitated: “Not today, I'm afraid,” he said, patting his leg for an explanation. Riley nodded; she had noticed that he looked a bit pale, and since she'd been here, he'd gotten at least two texts, probably from Jack. If the latter was in hovering mode, something was off.

“No problem,” she said. “I'll get back to coding then. See you later, 'kay?”

“Yeah.” Mac smiled, even though he didn't feel like it. He'd have loved to try the robot on the stairs after the update, but it wouldn't have been any good. Trying to quell a feeling of disappointment, he turned back to his circuit board.

That night, as he put Lottie to bed, she snuggled up against him as usual while he read to her. She had taught herself to read a year ago, but she loved having her dad reading to her nevertheless, and not only because he was brilliant at doing different voices. Mac put his arm around her and felt himself relax; this belonged to the best parts of any day, if anyone asked him.

“Hallo, Eeyore,” said Christopher Robin, as he opened the door and came out. “How are _you_?”

“It's snowing still,” said Eeyore gloomily.

“So it is.”

“ _And_ freezing.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” said Eeyore. “However,” he said, brightening up a little, “we haven't had an earthquake lately.”

Lottie laughed: “I wish it'd snow,” she then said.

Mac put the book down: “You do?”

“Yes! For Christmas, and for sledding!”

“Oh yeah, that'd be nice.”

“We could build a snowman.”

“And an igloo.”

“And a penguin!”

“And a polar bear, maybe?”

“Only a small one.”

“Why?”

“Because it'd scare the penguin if it's too big.”

“Right.”

When Bozer looked in on them a while later, both Lottie and Mac had dozed off; it happened from time to time.

Bozer padded into the room, took A.A. Milne off Mac's chest and covered him with a blanket, then he turned off the bedside lamp and left again.

Some time after midnight, Mac woke up. For a moment, he was disoriented, but then he realized where he was. For a moment, he just stayed still, listening to the quiet breathing of his little girl; after a while though, he carefully extricated himself and got to his feet. He needed proper sleep, and he needed to take another pain killer to get through the night.

Slowly, he limped towards his room; Bozer had gone to bed too, everything was quiet.

In the light of the neon sign above the bed, Mac changed into his sleep things, then went into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror: at first sight, one wouldn't think that he was damaged. There were a few scars on his leg, one hidden by his hair and a few on his torso, but nothing hideous or disfiguring.

Jack and he had been lucky that it hadn't been worse; they hadn't been caught in the actual blast but hadn't been able to clear the collapsing building, simply because there was a secondary device which went off when Mac disabled the first one. Nothing indicated there were two, and he kept thinking about it, wondering if he should have noticed that something was different. Apparently, he hadn't.

He didn't remember anything from that day, only that they'd been in a good mood because they were supposed to end their tour a week later. When Nikki had told him that she was pregnant, he had decided to return home as soon as possible.

Jack and he had talked about the matter, deciding to leave together. It was already clear that they wanted to keep working as a team, so they talked to their superior, who put in a good word for them. If it hadn't been for the explosion, they'd still be army, though how and where, Mac couldn't imagine.

The thought that haunted him was that it might have been his own carelessness which landed them in the hospital, despite Jack being adamant that it hadn't been Mac's fault.

Jack had been injured less severe, but still badly enough to also keep him in the hospital for a few weeks.

Like Bozer, he had been a rock for Mac both after the explosion and after Nikki died, which happened when Lottie was six months old. A car accident, and sometimes Mac could still feel a kind of bottomless despair at the unfairness of it all.

He had gotten home from the hospital four months earlier, and even though he was still bedridden for most of the time and terribly weak, it had been good to be home, and it had been a marvel to realize that he was a father, that he had his own family.

He vividly remembered how, once he was awake, lucid and able to communicate, Nikki brought Lottie in for the first time after she was born, how she put that tiny thing into his arm, a warm little weight, and how overwhelming it was. The instant, helpless love he felt, despite being on heavy pain medication.

Unaware that he was doing so, he smiled: there hadn't been a single day on which his daughter didn't amaze him.

To Be Continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit of dialogue with Christopher Robin and Eeyore is copied from "The House at Pooh Corner" by A.A. Milne.  
> Herman the hermit crab is an adorable plush toy by Jellycat (see picture).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely feedback on the first part!

“I need three more of these.” Lottie held out her hand and showed Jack the 1x1 Lego brick she was looking for.

“Are you sure that there are more of it?” Jack looked sceptical.

“Yes, but they are always hard to find because they're all the way at the bottom. It's a rule.”

“Maybe we should find an extra box to put them in.”

“That's a good idea.” Lottie jumped up. “I'll go ask Daddy for one!”

With a sigh, Jack began to dig around in the big Lego box.

Since Mac had lost some time this week and Bozer was working on this particular Saturday, Jack was spending the day at Mac's and with Lottie. He knew Mac wouldn't have made a big deal out of it if he hadn't been able to get some more work done, but it would have bugged him.

And the last thing Jack wanted was for Mac to feel like his impairment was compromising his job, which he took very serious. It was one important part of what accounted for a sense of normalcy, after all. Jack knew that Mac demanded a great deal of himself, and he didn't want him to feel weak or incapable because of the physical damage he had suffered. Apart from that, Jack loved spending time with Mini-Mac, as he occasionally called Lottie.

Just like her father, she had become one of the most important persons in Jack's life, and since he had all but adopted Mac a long time ago and considered him to be more of a son than a brother by now, he kind of regarded Lottie as his grandkid. Yes, he actually deemed himself to be too young to be a grandfather, but on the other hand: what did age really have to do with it when it felt like a fact that they belonged together in such a way?

He secretly enjoyed the notion, and that was all there was to it, after all. Lottie called him “Uncle”, had always done so, and that was fine with Jack.

Mac was sitting at his desk working on some wiring when Lottie came in. She knew that he was doing something important, therefore she had stopped herself from running just outside of his room. She also knew she was always welcome, but he usually was so concentrated when he was busy that she tried not to interrupt too often, and she didn't want to startle him.

He turned around to her when she walked in: “Hey, Squirrel, what's the rush?” So he _had_ heard her running.

“I need a box for my smallest Lego bricks.”

“Oh yeah, good thinking.” Mac had spent a lot time looking for those as well.

“It was Uncle's Jack's idea.”

“Did you make _him_ look for them?”

Lottie smiled: “He's doing it right now.”

Laughing quietly, Mac got up and opened the wall closet: “I might have one in here,” he muttered, rummaging around before pulling out a square box about six inches long. “Here, how's this?”

“Perfect. What's in it?”

Mac opened it: “A compass,” he said softly, taking it out and handing her the box. “It belonged to my dad.”

“Grandpa?”

“Yeah.”

Lottie looked at it: “It's pretty. You shouldn't keep it in a box.”

“No, you're right.” Mac smiled a little. “I guess I forgot about it.”

Lottie regarded him: “If it makes you sad, we can just find another box for my Legos.”

Amazed by her perception, Mac shook his head, then he crouched down and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly for a moment, as if he needed comfort.

“It's fine,” he then said, even though his eyes were still looking a bit sad, kissing her. “Thanks, honey.”

Lottie pondered the matter while she continued to build the house they had begun after lunch.

“What's up with you?” Jack, who was still looking for small bricks, asked after a while. “You're very quiet.”

“I'm thinking about Grandpa,” Lottie said. “His compass was in that box. It made Daddy sad.”

Jack paused: “Figures,” he replied softly. “I guess he's missing him.”

“I don't like it when he's sad,” Lottie murmured.

“Me neither,” Jack said. “It happens, though, to everyone.”

“Does it happen to you?”

“Oh yes. Whenever I visit my father's grave, for example. You see, I miss him too.”

Lottie nodded. For a six-year-old, she knew far too much about missing people who for some reason were absent in one's life.

“I miss my mom,” she said. “Though Avery from school says it's stupid because I was still a baby when she died.”  
“Avery, huh?” Jack regarded her. “Is that the girl who also said a chameleon isn't a real pet?”  
Lottie nodded.  
“Do you think she also believes that the earth is flat?”  
At that, Lottie giggled: “Probably. She's a very slow reader,” she said diplomatically.  
“So you better don't listen to her,” Jack replied. “Cause it seems to me as if she's not exactly the brightest person out there.”  
“Do you think she's just pretending?”  
Jack sighed, shaking his head: “Sounds as if she really believes she's that smart. The really clever ones, like your dad or you,” here, he smiled briefly, “don't go around forcing their opinions on others.”

At that, Lottie got up and leaned against Jack's back, putting her arms around his neck so that she could hug him: “You're really clever too, Uncle Jack,” she muttered, and Jack's heart swelled with love for this little person.

“Thank you, sweetheart, that's a really nice thing to say,” he muttered, his throat tight with emotion.

They stayed like that for a moment, then Jack patted Lottie's arm: “How about a little break? I don't know about you, but I could do with a coffee right now.”

Lottie laughed: “I'm not allowed to drink coffee!”

“Oh, right.” Jack pretended to consider this. “Well, maybe just some beer for you, then?”

Almost doubling over with laughter, Lottie shook her head.

“No beer either?” Jack frowned. “Huh. I guess you'll have to make do with something boring then, like some juice.”

“Okay. Can I have a straw?”

“Yes, you may.”

Jack made some coffee and Lottie got her juice with a straw- a reusable one made of glass.

“I'll just go and see if your dad wants some, okay?” Jack asked. Lottie, who was busy watching the juice sliding up and down in her straw, just nodded.

Mac was so concentrated he didn't seem to hear Jack. Who regarded him for a few seconds, checking his posture: physically, he seemed alright. Jack had become very apt in reading Mac's body language over the years, and he was glad to see that the kid had recovered so quickly this time. He had been taking things slow during the past few days and was now walking without his cane again, which was a bigger victory than one might think.

His shoulders were tenser than usual though; either he had hit a snag, or he was still mulling over his dad. Jack fully intended to find out what it was, but one had to tread careful on those occasions, otherwise Mac'd just clam up. He wasn't a loud or particularly extrovert person anyway, but when he became more quiet than usual, weighed down by something, he seemed so terribly desolate and vulnerable that it was breaking Jack's heart.

Jack vividly remembered those strange days after Nikki's death, filled with twilight, silence and a feeling of despondency. In his mind, he could still see Mac, who was still recovering, lying in his bed, the baby in one arm, staring into space unseeingly; weeks later, Mac lying on the couch, the baby on his chest, his expression still so forlorn that it hurt to witness it. Mac sitting on the deck, hunched in on himself, a narrow figure against the wide sky.

Mac would have withdrawn completely if it hadn't been for the baby, and if Jack had let him. As it was, he and Bozer did their best to help their friend, but he was convinced that it wouldn't have been enough, that Mac wouldn't have survived if it hadn't been for his daughter. She was the only person who could snap him out of his thoughts easily, who could make him look less hurt for a while.

Despite everything and encouraged by his logical family, he tried to be there for her, and eventually, she managed to make him smile again. She made him want to get better for her sake if not for his own. By and by, things were beginning to look up, and Jack counted every new day on which Mac got up and went on with his life as a win.

So yeah, he couldn't but worry about his boy whenever the latter got too deeply into his own head.

“Hey,” Jack now said. “How about some coffee?”

Mac held up a hand, not taking his eyes off his soldering iron: “Be right there,” he said, “just need to finish this.”

“Okay.” Jack nodded and returned to the kitchen.

When Mac joined them a few minutes later, Lottie had already finished her juice and was drawing a picture. Jack pushed a mug of coffee over to Mac: “You making progress there, hoss?”

“I hope so. I've rewired the stupid circuit boards so they should finally be working properly. Riley's convinced she's written the right program though, so I'm optimistic.” He shrugged and smiled, and Jack was glad to see that he appeared relaxed now.

Mac now looked over Lottie's shoulder: “You're getting really good at drawing horses, Squirrel.”

Lottie beamed at him: “These are the- what's that name again, Uncle Jack?”

“Chincoteague.”

“- Chincoteague ponies. And that's the bridge, look.”

“Course,” Jack muttered under his breath, looking amused. They had watched a documentary about the Chincoteague Pony Swim recently, and Lottie had been thoroughly impressed and a little scared for the ponies' sake. And suggested someone build a bridge from Assateague over to Chincoteague, so as to make things easier for them.

“I don't think the ponies really mind swimming over there,” Mac said, but Lottie shook her head: “There was a foal who almost got lost and it was really scared. And its mommy was scared. If they had a bridge, they could just run to the other side.”

When Mac looked at Jack, the latter just shook his head; he had already lost that particular argument because Lottie could be very tenacious and wouldn't budge from her opinion: “Till I was blue in the face,” he muttered almost inaudibly.

Mac grinned into his mug.

Later that afternoon, Riley came over. Lottie hugged her tightly: “Do you want to see what we're building?” she asked excitedly.

“Of course,” Riley said, letting the little girl tug her along by her hand.

“Hey,” Jack got to his feet and stretched for a moment, then he kissed Riley on the cheek: “You here for a little geeking?”

“If by _geeking_ you mean am I here to work on the artificial hand with Mac, which is an official assignment, then yes.”

Jack grimaced: “Eww. Haven't I warned you enough about... _you know_?” He only mouthed the words “robot uprisings” in order not to spook Lottie.

“Yes, repeatedly.” Riley smirked. “We're still going to work on it. And it means no stairs for a while, so...”

“Well, at least that's something. Not gonna save us in the long run though.”

Shaking her head, Riley turned her attention back to Lottie, crouching down next to her. “This looks amazing, honey! Wow, is this a slide?”

“Yes, you can just get up in the morning and slide down into the pool. And that's dad's lab. And here's where Bear lives.”

Bear was her pet chameleon; the name was Jack's fault. Well. When he first saw it, he said “Kinda looks like a bear to me,” meant as a joke, but the name stuck.

“Bear's got his own room?”

“Yes, with lots of trees in it! It's like a jungle, and there's a stream in there too.”

“That's so cool. I bet he'd love it in there.”

“And that's where the pool goes inside the house, see? You can just swim in and out. And here's going to be a lagoon. I didn't build it yet.”

“Great job, kiddo,” Riley said, holding her hand up for a high five, then she got to her feet: “Alright, your dad and I have got some work to do.”

“You gonna stay for dinner?” Jack asked. “We're gonna make Spaghetti.”

“Sounds good,” Riley replied over her shoulder. “Count me in.”

That night after putting Lottie to bed, Mac joined Jack, Bozer and Riley on the deck. With measured movements, he stepped into the pit and sat down, accepting a beer from Jack.

Riley was just explaining to Bozer what she and Mac were working on: “... doing exactly what your hand does.”

“So it's like a virtual remote control but instead of holding a device, the hand _is_ the device.”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Wow. Sounds complicated.”

Riley exchanged a look with Mac: “It is.”

Mac inclined his head: “Still a _lot_ of work,” he said. “And we haven't figured out a way to deal with the time delay yet.”

“We will though,” Riley said, sounding confident.

Mac gave her a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. Eventually.”

Jack regarded them with a proud, soft expression.

On their way to work on Monday morning, Jack watched Lottie as she disappeared between the other children on the schoolyard who were headed towards the entrance: “She's been talking about snow a lot lately,” he remarked when he pulled away from the kerb.

Mac, who had also been looking at his daughter, turned his head towards him: “With you too?”

“Yeah. Whenever it's not about the Chincoteague ponies these days.” Jack sounded fond. Lottie and he talked about a lot of stuff, but it had kept coming up. “She wants to know what Christmas in the snow'd be like.”

“I know.” Mac sounded pensive. Lottie had only once seen real snow, when they had visited the Bozers in Mission City for Thanksgiving two years ago, and she had been thrilled.

“So I thought,” Jack glanced at him, “I thought maybe we could ask Matty if we'll get a few days off at Christmas, and go somewhere where there's snow.”

Mac looked at him: “Really?”

“Yeah, why not. It'd be a nice change of scenery, don't you think?”

“Yes.” Mac considered this. “She'd love it.”

“'kay.” Jack smiled. “I mean, it's still a few months off, but we could start looking for a place to rent.”

“Yeah, okay.” The corners of Mac's mouth quirked upwards. “It's a plan.”

In the Phoenix underground parking lot, Jack and Mac were just about to get out of Jack's car when the world suddenly shook and erupted into chaos, accompanied by a deafening detonation and the shattering of windows.

The car was shaking too, and they quickly covered their faces with their arms to shield them from flying glass; for a breathless moment, all they could hear was their own blood rushing in their ears and a lot of noise.

Once it died down, Jack looked at Mac: “You okay?” he shouted over the sudden din of tinnitus in his ears.

“Yes,” Mac shouted back.

Both of them were bleeding from small scratches, but they ignored those and scrambled out of the car, thunderstruck.

From the looks of it, one of the cars had been blown up and was burning now; two other cars were damaged beyond repair, some more damaged lightly, just like Jack's.

They could already hear sirens and people approaching, and Jack made Mac stay back: “Too much heat and nothing we can do.” At least it didn't appear as though someone had been in it.

Mac just nodded; several car alarms had been triggered by the explosion, and the air was full of dust. He looked around nevertheless, suddenly having an eerie feeling of being watched.

The Phoenix building was being evacuated and processed that day; it meant having to work from home for a few days, since it wasn't only a crime scene but also had to be checked for structural damage.

As it was, Riley, who had already been there, had managed to grab everything she needed for Mac's and her current project, and after a lot of arguing with the security guards and their boss _and_ having to promise that they'd get seen by a paramedic afterwards as a precaution, Mac and Jack were allowed, accompanied by a fireman, to access the lab and get Mac's gear as well.

“You got two minutes,” the fireman said, taking up position at the door.

“Thanks, man,” Jack clapped him on the arm and followed Mac inside. “So what, we'll just grab everything on your desk and-” He paused, because Mac was standing in front of said desk and stared at something.

“What is it?” Jack asked, coming to stand right next to him.

Taped to the large magnifying lens was a note, written in bold print: HELL IS EMPTY _._

Jack immediately drew his gun and looked around: “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked.

Mac exhaled slowly: “It's from Shakespeare. And I don't think it's complete.”

He pulled out his phone and typed something, then, with a sinking feeling, he showed Jack the actual quote:

_Hell is empty and all the devils are here._

To Be Continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Shakespeare quote is from "The Tempest".
> 
> The Chincoteague Pony Swim is part of the annual Chincoteague Pony Penning and has become a major event. Some of you may be familiar with it because of the famous novel "Misty of Chincoteague" (and its sequels) by Marguerite Henry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. I've only recently begun to get back to this story, since episode 5x05 really threw me, and writing Jack like this is still strangely difficult.

“That note is a game changer,” Matty Webber, the director of the Phoenix Foundation, said about an hour later. “We'll have to assume that it's not a coincidence that the bomb went off the moment you entered that parking lot.”

Jack and Mac exchanged a look: “You don't say,” Jack grumbled.

Matty raised her eyebrows but let that slide; she knew how protective he was of Mac, and from the moment they had discovered the note, he had practically glued himself to the kid's side, his whole body tense, even while the paramedics took care of them.

A forensics team and CSU were on the scene now and Riley and another technician were looking at camera footage. They had set up shop in one of the conference rooms in the neighbouring building, which housed the training facilities.

Mac folded his arms in front of his chest, but he remained silent. He sat up straighter however when Matty looked at him with an apologetic expression: “As a precaution, I've sent someone to your daughter's school. Just to keep an eye out.”

“Do you really think this has got to do with me personally?” Mac asked, his voice very quiet.

“I'm sorry, Mac, but we can't rule anything out.” Matty held his gaze. “I'll need you to have a look at that bomb as soon as CSU has finished on site.”

Mac nodded. Jack looked mutinous: “That's it? We're just gonna go home at the end of the day and hope for the best?”

“What do you want me to do, Jack?”

“I want Mac, Lottie and Bozer moved to a safe location. If you think this warrants a weather eye on Lottie's school, we better not take any chances tonight either, don't you think?”

“It was just a warning,” Mac said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “If they had wanted to kill us, we'd be dead.”

“That doesn't make it any better,” Jack snapped.

“I understand that you're worried,” Matty said, “but we'll have security details guarding Mac's house. You'll also get a driver for the time being.”

Mac could tell that Jack still wasn't appeased by that. It was preferable to relocating to a safe house though, since it'd only upset Lottie unnecessarily. He already knew she was going to have questions about the cuts and scrapes on his and Jack's face and arms; Jack even had a rather large piece of gauze taped to his temple where he sustained a considerable wound that had been closed with butterfly bandages.

Mac was going to call Bozer and have him decide what he wanted to do, but other than that, he also wanted to go home at the end of the day. First though, he wanted to take a look at what's left of the bomb.

Jack was not going to leave Mac's side that day, as he'd already told Matty. He watched Mac as he examined the debris, for once being silent because Mac was tense, and Jack saw how he was frowning. When he finally straightened up, his face had turned pale, and the hand that he ran over his eyes was trembling.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

Mac took a deep breath: “It's the Ghost,” he said softly, his voice brittle.

Jack stared at him: “The same guy who killed your CO?”

“I think so. There was a camera hidden in the bomb, and he used the same materials and build...” Mac broke off, sounding shaken. “If it isn't him, it's someone who's got a remarkably similar technique.”

Jack considered this: “Think Riley can track the camera feed?”

“Worth a try.”

“Okay. Come on, let's go and tell the others what you found.” Jack put a hand on Mac's shoulder and left it there for a few seconds, and Mac leaned into the touch gratefully. “He's never operated on American soil before,” he muttered. “I've got to call Charlie, he'll need to confirm this. I just hope I'm wrong.”

The camera feed was a dead end, as was the camera footage.

“He managed to hack into our security feed,” Riley said incredulously.

“Isn't that supposed to be impossible?” Jack asked.

“Technically, every system can be hacked,” Riley replied, “but I was certain ours was unbreachable. Unless he had help from the inside, of course.”

Matty frowned: “I'll look into that,” she said softly.

At the end of a long day, Mac and Jack were driven back to Mac's house, where Bozer and Lottie were busy baking fairy cakes.

Bozer hadn't even considered staying elsewhere even though Mac had told him about the Ghost, back then. If anything, he wanted to be there for Mac, because he could easily guess that this was going to bring back all kinds of unpleasant memories. And really, Mac looked dejected as he walked in when Jack and he were finally home.

“Daddy!” Lottie flew towards him, and the moment he saw her, Mac's face lit up with genuine joy. He caught his daughter and lifted her up: “Hey, angel,” he said softly, hugging her; he had talked to her on the phone earlier to prepare her for the sight he and Jack currently looked. He hadn't told her about the bomb, only that there had been a small accident in the lab.

Lottie kissed him, then she regarded him: “Does it hurt?” she asked, looking at the small scratches and cuts on his cheek and temple.

“It did at first,” Mac admitted, “but it's alright now.”

Lottie looked from him to Jack: “Do yours hurt, Uncle Jack?”

“I think I could do with one of those special hugs from you to make it better,” he said, at which Lottie leaned over and reached for him. Mac handed her to Jack and went over to Bozer: “She okay?” he asked in an undertone.

“I think so.” Bozer smiled. “She kept asking about the accident at first, but baking's always a great distraction.”

“Thanks, Boze,” Mac said gratefully.

Bozer hugged him: “Anytime, bud,” he said, holding on for a moment longer than he ordinarily would have done, and Mac, who still felt shaken, was actually glad about that. He hadn't managed to get a hold of Charlie yet, which was frustrating. Mac was rather sure that he was right about the Ghost, but until Charlie had had a look, he didn't want to jump to the wrong conclusions.

Nevertheless, he had been nervous all day, and he could feel himself slowly calming down now: Bozer was always providing a sense of home, of normalcy, and this here, his little girl who was currently riding on Jack's shoulders and squealing with delight every time he jumped and pretended to make her hit the ceiling, combined with the scent of cake batter and Bozer's infectious laughter about Jack's antics, this was just what he needed to ground himself. It didn't mean that things were okay, but he was able to cope, for now.

Jack stayed the night, of course. It wasn't the first time that he'd slept on the couch, and he wouldn't have dreamed of leaving. He could see, despite the brave face that Mac was putting up for Lottie's sake, how much the situation was taking out of his boy.

Long after they had all gone to bed, Jack woke up. Force of habit had him opening his eyes at once, because he didn't know what he had heard; he lay still, just listening into the darkness, hand ready to grab his gun, but everything remained silent. Just to be sure, he slowly got up nevertheless and had a look around.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw Mac outside. He was sitting on the deck, leaning against the wall, his knees drawn up, his head resting on his arms which he had wrapped around his legs.

Making himself small, Jack thought, because a compact mass was much better suited to endure pressure.

At least he had had the sense not to make himself a target by sitting down at the fire pit; Jack knew that the Phoenix guys were out there, but still.

With a sigh, he went into the kitchen, where he put some water to boil. A few minutes later, he went out onto the deck with two mugs of steaming tea.

Mac looked up when he heard Jack's footsteps: “Did I wake you?” he asked, his voice gravelly and tired.

“No,” Jack lied. “Call of nature did.” He handed Mac one of the mugs, then he sat down next to him. “What're you doing up?”

“Couldn't sleep.” Mac looked from Jack to the mug. “But you obviously guessed that. This is Sleepy Time tea.”

Jack smiled: “Lottie loves it, so I thought it might work for you as well.”

The corners of Mac's mouth quirked up: “Thanks,” he murmured.

Jack bumped his shoulder with his own: “We're gonna figure this out, you know?”

Leaning against him, Mac eventually nodded: “I hope so.” He sounded exhausted. “Jack- what if it's really him? It's bad enough that he's been wreaking havoc over in the Middle East. What if he's decided to do it here as of now, just to prove something and ultimately... kill me?”

Jack didn't have an immediate answer to that; the notion that someone was intent on killing Mac was turning his stomach. However,the kid mustn't know how much this scared him, he needed Jack to be strong and imperturbable. “We'll have to do our darnedest to catch him, then,” he therefore provided once he had his voice sufficiently under control.

Mac refrained from pointing out that the Ghost had skilfully eluded capture for a long time now, but Jack had an inkling what was going on in his head: “Now, I know what you're thinking,” he accordingly said. “But this is different. This isn't a war zone. We can work much more coordinated and organized here, if we have to.” _And I'll not let anything happen to you if I can help it._

“You're right.” Mac felt marginally better just because Jack didn't in the least seem intimidated by what might become a gargantuan task. But that was one of Jack's superpowers, really: he always managed to give Mac a fresh perspective, made him see light where he had expected nothing but darkness.

“Course I'm right,” Jack sounded complacent. “Ain't got all this grey hair for nothing, hoss. With great age comes great wisdom.”

This elicited an amused snort.

They finished their tea in silence, but that was okay. Jack's solid warmth next to him was comforting, and Mac didn't feel quite as unsettled as before.

On the following morning, Mac woke up because Lottie crawled in with him and he suddenly had a face full of hermit crab. He pushed Herman aside and glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand: “Someone's up early,” he muttered, wrapping his arm around Lottie, who snuggled into his side: “I couldn't sleep anymore.”

“We still got an hour until we have to get up though.” Mac yawned; his eyes felt gritty, and he was still terribly tired. “Did you try counting backwards from a hundred?”

“Not yet. A hundred, ninety-nine-”

“In your head, I mean.”

“Okay...”

Mac was close to dozing off again when Lottie sighed: “It's not working.”

“Try saying the alphabet backwards then,” Mac murmured groggily. “Z is for zebra...”

“Can I do it out loud?”

“In your head, please.”

“'kay...”

A few minutes later, both of them were asleep.

When the alarm went off roughly an hour later, Mac felt as though he had just closed his eyes again. Lottie groaned as well, but when Mac told her that Jack was sleeping on the couch, she went to wake him.

Mac slowly got up and made his way to the bathroom with his eyes still mostly closed, not at all ready for the new day.

When he came into the kitchen, Bozer was already sitting at the counter reading the paper and drinking coffee, while Lottie and Jack were horsing around in the living room.

“Alright,” Jack was just saying. “You gotta get a move on, young lady, and so do I.”

Lottie sighed: “But I'm _gallopping_ to my room!”

“Yeah, I'm _not_ gonna do that,” Jack smacked a kiss on her cheek and set her down. “Off you go.”

Once the little girl had taken off, Jack joined the other two: “Morning,” he said, looking Mac over. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” Mac gave him a small smile which perfectly conveyed what he didn't say: _Thanks to the tea and the company_. “You?”

“Yeah.” Jack returned the smile: _Anytime, kiddo_.

Right then, Lottie came back in: “I want to wear my red sweater today,” she said. “Not this one. But I can't find it.”

“Yesterday, you said you wanted this one with the panda on it.”

“I changed my mind.”

“The red one's in the laundry.”

Lottie pouted.

“What's wrong with this one?”

“It's not red.”

“How about you wear your red skirt with this one?”

She considered this: “I suppose.”

“And did you remember to give Bear some fresh water?”

“Not yet.”

Mac got to his feet: “Okay, let's get you and him sorted out...”

Lottie reached for his hand and pulled him along.

Bozer and Jack exchanged a look: “He gonna be alright?” Bozer asked, because he could see how bleary Mac looked.

“I hope so, buddy,” Jack replied. “He's worried, of course. Situation's damn unpredictable, even if it turns out to be the Ghost.”

Bozer nodded: “Call me if you know more, okay?”

“Yeah.” Jack regarded him: “Boze- if it comes to the worst, I need you to agree to go to a safe house. Because Mac's too stubborn for his own good, and if you won't, Mac and Lottie won't go either.”

“Of course,” Bozer said, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I just hope you'll catch the guy before it comes to that.”

Jack sighed: “Me too, buddy. Me too.”

Charlie called Mac back just as he and Jack were getting out of the car. Mac told him what had transpired and why he needed his expertise, which had Charlie frown: “Mac- the Ghost is dead.”

“What?” Mac froze.

“Yeah, he was killed by one of his own bombs. The remains have been positively identified as Sean Brennan, former IRA contractor, the guy who we've been suspecting for some time now.”

“When?”

“About three months ago.”

Mac's mind was reeling: “Why didn't you tell me?”

“It's confidential,” Charlie said apologetically. “I'm sorry, man. I can only tell you now because he's a person of interest in your case.”

Running a shaking hand through his hair, Mac exchanged a look with Jack: “Okay. Thanks, Charlie. Appreciate your help.”

“Anytime, man. Sorry it's not what you needed to hear.”

Since the main building had been declared safe to use, they met with Matty and Riley in the war room.

Mac told them what Charlie had said, which was followed by a heavy silence.

“Okay,” Matty then said. “So we assume that the Ghost either's had a fan or an apprentice?”

Mac nodded: “His MO is too specific for anyone to accidentally copy it.”

Matty turned to Riley: “We need to find out where Sean Brennan was during the past years and whom he associated with. I'll contact Langley and request they send us their files on him.”

Jack folded his arms in front of his chest: “I take it we still got squat on our bomber?”

Riley shook her head with pursed lips: “No video feed, no fingerprints, no one who saw anything. Or who seems to have been collaborating with someone from the outside.” On the previous day, they had also run a search for the materials he had used, hoping to find out how the bomber had obtained them, but that hadn't resulted in anything conclusive either.

“Sounds like a ghost to me if I ever heard of one,” Jack muttered. “Is there any chance he maybe faked his death?”

“Faking one's own death isn't as easy as it may sound,” Mac said distractedly. He had taken a paper clip out of the large bowl and was fiddling with it.

“Well, if Sherlock Holmes could do it,” Jack said, eliciting an amused snort from Riley.

Matty however considered this: “It's probably worth looking into nevertheless,” she said. “Whenever a body's burned beyond recognition, they don't have much to go on, after all.” She looked at Riley: “We should also look into that Shakespeare quote.”

Which had been bugging Mac too: “That's the only thing that's unusual,” he said. “Before, the Ghost didn't leave notes.” He frowned. “Maybe he didn't fake his death. Maybe I was too quick to assume and this _is_ someone else entirely.”

“Hey,” Jack said, straightening up. “If this is the work of a copy cat, it's done perfectly. Everyone would have thought along the same lines as you, hoss.”

Mac bit his lip, apparently not completely convinced yet, but then he nodded.

“Yeah,” he muttered, throwing the paper clip onto the table. “Maybe.”

Jack regarded the little shape of a ghost Mac had made and didn't even know what would be worse: it actually being the Ghost or an unknown player they'd have to contend with, because at this point, the Ghost just made more sense: he and Mac did have a history, after all. If it was someone else, they didn't even know if this was about Mac personally or if the perpetrator chose Mac's lab at random to leave his note.

None of which bode well. 

To Be Continued

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm not a Native Speaker, therefore I apologize for any mistakes.


End file.
